Category Archives: good times

My sister is being a bum about replacing her car battery. It’s in our blood. Our family avoids mechanics like they’re doctors. She lives in a different state so there’s not much I can help with when she calls me from a gas station or empty parking lot at night while waiting for AAA. I do the sisterly thing and walk her through the situation’s high potential for inciting horror. Inspired by real life events, of course.

Final girls get the glory, but the first victim goes out in spectacular fashion. We may not learn her hopes and dreams. We may never know her name, but we will remember her screams always. Her end is our beginning. How she goes sets the tone for the whole movie, maybe even a franchise.

I tell her this knowing she lives in fear of zombies, vengeful spirits, masked strangers wielding chainsaws – the stuff dreams are made of. What do victims in horror movies lack? Reliable cars.

This is fixable. My other sisters and I got her a new car battery for Christmas. All she has to do is put it in or get someone to do it, but the mental block is mighty. I sent her links to tutorials so she could try to do it herself. It looks doable but so does self surgery when reduced down to a few images with colorful arrows.

Other people’s problems are so easy to fix. I should just drive there and help or go with to a mechanic. But well you see um actually my back tires need replacing. Every time I try to muster the will to take care of it something more urgent comes up, like a nap or taxes. I’d rather do my taxes than deal with my own car problem. Last summer, a deep dip in the lot at a trailhead knocked our wheel well liner loose. Okay, driving into the deep dip is probably what knocked it loose. We didn’t notice until this massive piece of rubber started dragging under the car on the drive home. The sound, feel and smell of rubber suddenly dragging on the road at 60+ mph is not pleasant. Fortunately I never leave home without duct tape. I proceeded to tape and re-tape for weeks. The mechanic said we spent more time taping than he did fixing.

So I understand the aversion but understanding isn’t going to break the cycle. Several times a week her car battery dies then my phone rings then a slasher road movie unfolds until headlights pull up presumably to lend a jump. Once the car is running again, her promise to take care of the battery is no match for the mental block.

Mental blocks are monsters. Mine are best defeated by bigger monsters. The consequences of not doing something that needs doing are always worse than the act of doing it. Procrastinators know this, but sometimes a push is needed. Enter my latest edition of I Wish This Existed.

I wish there was a business, sort of a singing telegram meets haunted attraction to-go. I could call and place a standard order for a haunter to lurk in the lot where she often calls me from. Then snap a twig. Maybe growl. Step out from the shadows a moment before AAA headlights roll up.

This business idea has some flaws. We can iron those out. Learn on our feet. Thinking it through, my sister would maybe never forgive me, but I’m pretty sure she’d get that battery put in. Maybe she’d thank me. Rather than wonder and never know, I ran this idea by her. A zombie steps out from behind a dumpster, slowly advances. You look into its eyes of endless hunger and wish you got that battery put in!

She said No thanks.

Later that night she called me not from a gas station and not for one of my usual don’t go down without a fight pep talks. I made her so paranoid she went to Pep Boys. She called me from home to not say thanks.

Two weekends ago I saw a black rat snake on my way to the Big Hill shelter in Harriman Park. My brain decided it was a long forgotten section of hose until it lifted its head and shifted for a better look at the lumbering oaf wandering off trail in its territory – the stone foundation of some mansion. It had no interest in getting to know me, but you have to wonder what it’s fellow black rats did to earn such a pleasant name.

This past weekend we drove up to Hunter Mountain. Every single fall we make plans to take the skyride chairlift up to see reds and golds spread over the Catskills and every year we miss it, forgetting that they close mid-October, next weekend. This year we only put it off to the second to last weekend.

It’s an 11-minute ride to the top, about 3,000 feet. Fall up here is not quite at peak color, but it’s already more vivid and varied than fall in NYC ever gets. Hop off to see this overlook

along with ski trails,

zip lining

and a lot of confusingly labeled hiking trails. We followed the yellow trail 1 mile, hello, finger roots,

then a boring blue bridle trail another mile to reach the fire tower at the top.

You can always climb the tower, but usually the compartment at the top is locked. Between Memorial Day and about now, volunteers usually spend the weekend in a cabin beside the tower. When we arrived a volunteer was up there so we were able to enjoy the views without gripping the rails on this windy day. Thanks, volunteers.

The world turns green again at the top.

I’d love to go back in winter when snow piles up between branches.

Going down we passed a number of people drinking beer from glass boots on their way up. We took the chairlift up when it opened at 10. A few hours later we went down to a different day entirely. Hunter Mountain’s October Fest is the best one we’ve been to in the area and definitely the busiest. We missed the steinholding competition, but caught the keg obstacle roll. Raj enjoyed a post-hike plate of Schnitzel while we sat on a hill listening to Polka music.

On our first of 2 September days in New Hampshire, we did a quick hike up Bald Mountain for a peek at the peaks ahead. It was a cool day. While snacking on an overlook we watched a dark grey cloud pass over Mount Lafayette in the distance, leaving behind a white hat on this 5,249-foot mountain, our first summit the next day.

The 8.9ish-mile ridge loops takes you up over “The Agonies” to the summit of Mount Lafayette. From there a stone-framed ridge trail leads to the summits of Mount Lincoln and Little Haystack before the loop descends for what felt to my calves like eternity. On our first part of the loop we got a good look at The Agonies and first ascent.

I’ve never hiked a loop where you can basically see the full trail with its ups and downs from a single lookout. The picture below shows Little Haystack in the center with a sloped treeline showing the gradual descent that is the Falling Waters trail leading back to the parking lot.

This trail is listed among the best in the world and right away you get why. Everything is right. The alpine views begin unfolding as the trail flirts with the treeline for a bit.

Four trails seamlessly connect to form this loop. The majority of hikers went up the Falling Waters trail while we took the Old Bridle trail up, hiking clockwise while most did it counter. Going this way, we shared this stunning trail with only a handful of hikers. The Bridle trail offers a scenic, gentle ascent at first with a few fun scrambles higher up. The best part was that after a few miles, before the final push to the summit of Mount Lafayette, you reach the glorious AMC Greenleaf hut. These huts welcome hikers with clean restrooms and drinking water refills. They also sell homemade sweets and bowls of soup for $2. We stopped here and chatted with the same hikers we had leapfrogged with all the way up.

Cairns mark the rest of the way up through piney shrubs and some loose rocks. At this point hikers were descending from the other direction. A lot of them were hiking with happy dogs.

Here’s from the summit of Mount Lafayette.

Which way to go? The ridge trail continues in both directions, overlapping with the AT. A few years ago I met a southbound thru hiker on the AT. Over popsicles on a steamy summer’s day her told me about his journey thus far. Granted he was only in NY, but at that point he said his favorite part of the trail was the section in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. I finally see what he was talking about.

The summit was quite crowded and covered in biting black flies. One guy was meditating and there were the handful of girls striking obligatory yoga poses. I just wanted to take it in, the majesty of these mountains, but the flies vied hard for attention. Bug spray was no match.

Don’t take my word for it, but I thiiiink that highest peak in the distance is Mount Washington, another adventure on the to-hike list, but more than an hour’s drive from where we were. Maybe next time.

The ridge trail isn’t nearly as narrow as I expected. Squint and you see they’re not ants but humans coming from the other direction.

For about 1.8 miles you’re hiking on a ridge, stopping at the peaks of Mount Lincoln and Little Haystack along the way. Mountains in every direction. It’s a dream.

It’s very freeing to hike to the top of a mountain and stay up there on a ridge. Usually we hike up and then after taking it in from the one lookout we go back down. What a treat to not only go above the treeline but to stay there while continuing onward.

Here’s Mount Lincoln.

Then up to Little Haystack.

After this peak, we descended on the Falling Waters trail. It felt like a long long way down before we hit the waterfalls. I don’t understand why so many hikers choose to go up this way. It was brutal enough going down.

Waterfalls are a nice way to conclude a long, spectacular hike. This took us about 7 hours and my feet were pretty sore after.

We went back to our motel, which after a summer of stormy camping trips, felt luxurious. A bed! We get a bed!And there aren’t spiders in the shower! We even had a minifridge and a microwave and a TV. Best of all, we caught a marathon, maybe it was on the History channel. We ate weird tacos and drank Pinot Evil from plastic cups while learning all about how the moon is hollow and really an alien station. Our hiking chats often drift to aliens and monsters so this was a fitting refuel.

For dessert we drove to a convenience store down the street. What kind of mural did they have on the outside? I’m glad you asked. On the outside of this convenience store is a mural for Betty and Barney Hill, abducted from just up the street in the White Mountains in 1961.

We were advised to read The Blue Planet Project, a book of dubious origins also referenced in the new Twin Peaks season. I’ve already read the book. You can find it online. When I need a break from the news and this world, I read about aliens. Carl Saga’s The Demon-Haunted World is coming on my next trip.

Hiking to Giant Ledge and Panther Mountain was a summer highlight. I can’t wait to do it again in a few weeks when we can make clever observations like Aren’t the leaves so pretty?

The night before, we slept through rain and lightning at the Woodland Valley campground. Our site was hard to leave. By far the best campsite I’ve ever stayed at. We ate breakfast and drank percolated coffee while watching fog roll off the creek as hummingbirds drank nectar from a patch of yellow wildflowers. It’s true. You gotta believe me.

You can hike to Giant Ledge from Woodland Valley campground. That was the original intention, but then we considered other options. Rather than hiking 8 miles out and back to Giant Ledge right from Woodland, we drove 20-ish minutes to the other trailhead on County Road 47. From here the trail to Giant Ledge is only about 3.2 miles out and back, which gave us time and energy to hike to Panther Mountain too. The total mileage for both from the other trailhead was about 6.9 miles. Why not add another peak to our bag?

Directions are simple: Take the yellow trail .75 miles to the blue trail. It’s blue all the way to Panther. Then come back. Every time the hike starts to feel monotonous the trail changes. Rocky to gentle flattish paths to large stepping stones then a few easy scrambles up.

Last time we camped, after racing to the car in the middle of the night with a stack of books because it was raining and I’d left the flap open and everything inside our tent was starting to get wet, I finally learned to limit myself to one book on these short hiking/camping trips. For Woodland Valley I chose Ursula Le Guin’s Words Are my Matter. The night before this hike I read “The Beast in the Book” a talk she gave in 2014 about relationships between animals and human characters. It made me think of bears and snakes and all the possibly threatening animals we might see on the hike ahead. How dangerous a worst-case-scenario can be, but also how necessary it feels to go into the wilderness anyway, to respect, savor and envy their home.

“People and animals are supposed to be together. We spent quite a long time evolving together, and we used to be partners,” writes Temple Grandin in Animals in Translation.

We human beings have made a world reduced to ourselves and our artifacts, but we weren’t made for it, and we have to teach our children to live in it. Physically and mentally equipped to be at home in a richly various and unpredictable environment, competing and coexisting with creatures of all kinds, our children must learn poverty and exile: to live on concrete among endless human beings, seeing a beast now and then through bars.

On the yellow trail, I saw a mouse crouched under a large stone in the middle of the footpath. I made eye contact with the little guy expecting it to scurry away but he just stayed there looking at me so I just kept looking into his brown beady eyes, feeling like his equal, thanks to Le Guin.

You know you’re close when the trail flattens. You’re surrounded by trees, stone and dirt and then there’s a side trail and you take it, looking down at each rocky step. Then the world opens up and it’s breathtaking. The view from Giant Ledge is special. It’s what wow looks like.

We sat at the first ledge eating our first pj of the day before pushing on to the other ledges and Panther Mountain. The section between Giant Ledge and Panther Mountain was my favorite to hike. There’s a steep descent of about 200 feet, then its more than 700 feet uphill over about a mile. We took our time, glad for the peace and quiet we didn’t find on the crowded ledges.

We saw all sorts of strange colorful mushrooms on our Slide Mountain hike earlier this summer. It’s neighbor Panther surprised us with patches of wildflowers and bright berries. The highest in the Catskills, Slide Mountain rises to 4,190′. While Panther’s elevation is 3,720′, this summit felt much higher, perhaps there aren’t as many false peaks. Like on Slide, the forest changes from the beech-birch-maple hardwoods of the lower slopes to conifer forest. That pure pine smell lifts you to the top. Legs and feet take all the credit, but the air works some magic.

The view from Panther is similar the one you get on Giant Ledge, perhaps a touch sweeter. You’re on top of a mountain. Not only that, geologists believe Panther is on the site of an ancient meteorite impact crater.

This is not a place to complain. Not in the moment. Now, after the fact, I’m still wishing there was a post or star or something to mark the summit. We didn’t want to hike to almost-the-peak so we kept going and going, looking for a sign or something. Then the trail began to descend down the other side. We turned back and ran into a couple who had a gadget that marked a small ledge with the above overlook as the highest point. It was a bit anticlimactic, but nothing to do about it. It’s not like the people responsible for maintaining the trail could possibly find a little piece of wood and paint a few strokes noting the top.

The gadget couple made themselves at home on the small ledge at the peak, so we went to another large rock near the top for a food break. Pjs taste best at higher elevations after being squished in a backpack for a few hours. That’s a fact. For dessert I nearly choked on a chocolate covered espresso bean. Between popping it in my mouth and crunching, the rock we were sitting on began to move between my feet. I was focused on the vista. It took my eyes a second to zoom in on the snake right in front of me, it’s open jaw about an inch from my ankle. Luckily I was tired. The edge of a mountaintop rock isn’t a place to get jumpy. It wasn’t a rattler anyway. I’m not sure what kind it was, but once we were standing we saw three other snakes slithering around the rock. Maybe they enjoy peanut butter and raspberry preserves at high elevation, too.

That was our signal to head back, enjoying the views from Giant Ledge one more time.

My dad asked why Raj and I rarely take pictures of ourselves. Neither of us are picture people. I broke it to him as gently as I could. I said, Dad, Raj doesn’t know how to smile when a camera is pointed at him and I look like a doozer.

My little sister’s birthday is coming up. Turns out I’m really bad at keeping my gift ideas a secret. Over our chat, my evil fingers told her all about what I’m making for her. Well, sort of making. Aspiring to create. I think she’ll still be surprised. Provided I learn robotics posthaste.

While my sister and I were chatting on gmail, my boyfriend asked what I was doing. My evil mouth told him I was writing a poem. I don’t know why I said that. I don’t write poems. Now he wants to read my poem and that’s fine. A chat is a chat is a poem.

Back from house sitting in the Poconos. Made the mistake of opening an Atlantic article on the Senate’s healthcare proposals. No. No. And No. Not good for my rage. Does rage count as a preexisting condition? Life seemed okay a few hours ago, driving back listening first to Weezer’s Pinkerton then Sabbath’s Master of Reality. Felt like putting my skin back on. My boyfriend shared the sentiment, though de-creepified it by liking these albums to a favorite pair of pants instead. Who wants to put on pants when it feels like 90 degrees out? Choose wisely. I’m sticking to my skin.

My preferred route from the city to Poconos is via I-80, provided I get up early enough to zip through Manhattan and the Holland Tunnel. I-80 has an exit for the Appalachian Trail at the Delaware Water Gap. It puts you right in the trailhead parking lot. We’ve driven by it many times, always tempted to stop but quick with an excuse not to – too hot, too late, too hungry. This time I planned ahead. Rain began to fall as soon as we parked but quit after a few minutes so the very rocky trail didn’t get too slippery.

The first part of this trail follows a rushing creek with small waterfalls. Then there’s a split. The AT ascends and the Dunnfield Creek Trail continues along the creek. Both trails will eventually take you up to Sunfish Pond (on the AT it’s 3.75 miles). The mosquitoes and heat were too much this time, but the pond loop is on my to-hike list for next time. There were so many hikers on the trail that I didn’t even think about bears.

House sitting coincided with a heat wave, which inspired a lot of swimming and very early morning runs. I read, reluctantly worked and baked some brownie sludge. Mostly, I swam by day and at night watched Twin Peaks and horror movies before laying out under the stars. It was great. I kept thinking, Why can’t this be all I do?

It wasn’t until driving back and impossibly torn on which route to take – Manhattan VS. Staten Island, always a gamble – that I realized I was just a few chlorine-soaked swims short of turning into a shriveled pool zombie. After a week of mental checkout, it’s hard to check back in. I went on the pop tart diet of lifestyles and then complained of malnutrition.

We’re back in steamy Brooklyn and our neighborhood smells like burnt pickles. The neighbor’s fence-that-will-never-be has morphed. Now there are partial brick walls, deep ditches and wood planks slapped up to give the place a certain this-is-where-bad-things-happen feel. It wants my skull and not in a boppy Misfits way.

My sister got a promotion at work and my bf passed a certification. I injured my wrist dong something stupid and can’t really move it or use it, but did get the monstrous air conditioner in the window one-handed. So yup. We’re all winners this week.

My wrist is getting better, which is good because I only own so many dresses. The most ordinary tasks are tricky one-handed, like squeezing toothpaste on the toothbrush or putting on shorts. Washing a glass. Working. Eating SO Delicious mint chip ice cream is doable, possibly the cure.

Bozo is in town. Streets around the Hellmouth are fittingly lined with sanitation trucks. Knowing blondie is surrounded by garbage trucks makes me almost as joyous …

as all the lovely comic books hot off the press and ready for our eyeballs.

This Saturday is Free Comic Book Day, the happiest day. Repeat: If it’s for free, it’s for me. Every year I find a few gems for my nieces. Last year, Science Comics! were a hit. This year they’ve requested stories with … capes. I tried so hard to steer them from superheroes and I failed big time. So instead of fighting it we’re making them capes to go with the reading.

This is my second round of cape-making for them. The first round didn’t turn out as I pictured them in my head. Still don’t know what I did wrong, possibly sewing them by hand in poor lighting. This time will be different because I begged my sister to sew them with her machine. She asked for the pattern like an amateur.

The pattern is just sew two capes with snaps at the collar and maybe a hood. I sew the way I bake, which is not always the best approach as it produces not always the best results, but when something does turn out it’s magical because it’s certainly not due to hard work and know-how.

In lieu of a sewing pattern, I’m busy barring the door from villains like, oh, slimy bigots in suits wielding executive orders and golf clubs. My buddies must harness their own powers, along with all the rest of us.

I started watching Community whilst sick and now all I want to do is build a pillow fort on a rainy day. Inside there will be a room for eating pie and damn good coffee, a place to roll around in Twin Peaks anticipation. Two hours of glory on May 21st. Possibly later for us as Showtime isn’t one of our three channels, but my sister’s recording it for me or she’s out of the family.

Also in my pillow fort will be a room for reading Giant Days and eating crumpets. I ate a crumpet nearly every day when I lived in London. Now I can’t watch or read anything set in England without aching for one lightly toasted with a little butter and preserves.

Unfortunately there are only 4 volumes of Giant Days so far. Discovering how fantastic this series is so early in is almost like watching Twin Peak for the first time and getting really excited that there are two whole seasons of wonderful strangeness only to arrive at the second season and find the party long over, all the magic gone save for the dreamy opening sequence, which I’d live on were it chewable.

Giant Days and Twin Peaks have nothing in common other than that I want more of both RIGHT NOW. I’m ringing my sick bell for them. Ideally Special Agent Dale Cooper brings me volume 5 and then we fly away.

Boom! Studios publishes Giant Days and Lumberjanes so I expected to like it, though the intended audience is older for Giant Days. The series follows three close friends, Susan, Esther and Daisy, in their first year at university. The stories are small slices of their lives – dating, yearning, looking for an apartment too late. It’s best to go in with no expectations. I was told Giant Days is hilarious. So funny. So when I read the first volume and didn’t harm myself laughing I figured it was another overrated comic. It’s not.

I read it again because the colorful characters and lively artwork are too good to put down. Giant Days is universally amusing addictive eye candy. The characters are wildly entertaining. I’m not into fashion, but even their detailed outfits are fun. The whole experience of reading each volume is total joy.

Curious to see a fresh reaction, I handed them over to my boyfriend without saying anything. He laughed a lot and I think he has a thing for Daisy. Everything I like about the series, he likes, too. The characters are so different from each other. Then there’s a handful of side characters who are just as endearingly flawed.

There’s so much to like about Giant Days. I missed the hahas the first time I read the first volume because my arms were crossed demanding to be delighted. Every character has their own sense of humor. Their stories are grounded in reality while the tone is heightened in silliness. The dynamic of every relationship varies and evolves. It’s a pleasure to read because the series hits so many different notes and the friends have genuine moments of regret, loneliness, delusion, lust, hope, failure and other good time emotions. You can even read it in my imaginary pillow fort.

A phrase came to mind as I completed this year’s taxes. It’s one of very few Bangla phrases I know and usually save for bad restaurants. It translates to “They slapped us in the face and took our money.”

This was a frustrating year to pay taxes. I just didn’t want to do it. Who does, knowing the money could actually go toward a wall ordered by a born millionaire who didn’t have to pay his own taxes for 18 years? Wouldn’t it be nice for those of us who do pay taxes if we could indicate where we want at least a percentage of our dollars to go? Filing would be more engaging than stressful, more fulfilling maybe.

But it’s done. I’ll have my reward now.

Does anyone else reward themselves for doing their taxes? This year someone special (ME!) is getting hiking boots. I’m tired of slipping on boulders in old running shoes. Lyme disease-spreading ticks are supposed to be at an all time high this year in the Northeast, which they say every year, but I’m treating myself to more insecticide, too. Chemicals!

Since filing was especially annoying this year thanks to the electoral college’s president, I’m also baking me a pumpkin chocolate chip loaf. They say pumpkin isn’t in season right now. I’m going to share a deep dark secret. Our pumpkin that we got back in October is still on our mantle. It’s fine. I keep waiting for it to liquefy or reveal itself for the alien pod it is. I check it for rot every day and every day it’s fine, a little lighter like it’s hollow inside. I’m not baking the actual pumpkin. We kept it up over the holidays by our leg lamp and hung streamers around it for New Years. We put a hat over the curled stem for St. Paddy’s and now there’s a bunny on top. Maybe the fountain of pumpkin immortality is the corner spot on our mantle? We’ve come so far together, been through so much. The pumpkin is a part of the family. It’s like the lazy aloof cat we can’t have because of allergies.

With all the distraction of taxes and rewarding myself, I completely forgot about April Fools’. So when my little sister I called I answered with the first thing that came to mind.

“I cut off my little toe.”

She screamed, “What?” Then there was a glorious stunned silence, followed by “How?” And more horrified questions. My answers were just vague enough and I said I’d send her a picture because if I did cut my toe off I would take a picture for my Dead Stuff newsletter.

The picture was a drawn toe with “April fooled you” written, but I guess it took her a while to open because she thought it was a picture of my real severed toe. She called my dad before I got to him so for a little while both of them thought I’d cut off my own little toe and was sending around the picture. For good measure I included my other two sisters in the horror.

I got them. It’s funny how effortless it was to make my family to believe I cut my toe off. Good times.

I went into paranoia overdrive last week, researching a new-to-me campground in the Poconos. By the time we left, I fully expected to be greeted by a party of angry black bears dressed in Lyme infected ticks twirling rattlesnake lassos. I needed to switch gears.

We did a quick search for fun hikes in the area, ideally with scrambles. Glen Onoko Falls trail in Lehigh Gorge State Park sounded ideal. Bordering a series of waterfalls, the first half is uphill with plenty of scrambles and vistas up top. And it was only a few miles from our campground. And, provided we didn’t get lost, the loop back would take us past the grounds of the Wahnetah Hotel, which burned down in 1917.

image via treasure.net

My sister has hiked all over the area and repeatedly warned us to be careful on this one. A number of people have fallen and died on this trail. Stay away from the edges, which can be more slippery than they look. Be mindful of where you step, particularly on the steep sections with small loose rocks. Wear hiking boots – you’ll need the traction, especially if it rained recently!

I’m not going to walk you through the trail as a number of hiking bloggers have already done that job well. Check out East Coast Hiker and Gone Hikin’ for detailed trail descriptions and pictures. We couldn’t find any trail maps so we printed the directions from both blogs, but didn’t end up needing them. Stick to the water on the way up and you’re on the scenic route. This was taken early on the trail.

We started the trail in early morning shade, feeling a slight chill in short sleeved shirts. I’m so glad we didn’t lug along more clothes. The sun and rocky path quickly warmed us up. My boyfriend looked like he was glowing. I was a gross walking puddle slick with sun screen and bug spray, but loving the views and the peace that comes with not thinking of anything other than where to step next. Yes, I see how it can be dangerous, but this is a beautiful place. Because the trail isn’t very well marked at times, it’s like you’re inside a puzzle. Where it is well marked, you still have to be aware of where you’re gripping and stepping, keeping three points of contact where needed.

We didn’t take any pictures of the larger falls. It’s not a scenic hike unless the phone battery is dying. Here’s where we crossed over:

We saw several small brownish frogs, a whole lot of spiders, butterflies and tiny fish. After a big waterfall under which a teenage boy was singing Don’t go chasing waterfalls and singing it quite well, the trail took us by some cairns tucked at various shelves under a shady rock ledge. Though cairns are supposed to be used to guide hikers from a distance where there are no trees or high rocks to mark the trail, these here are just for fun I guess.

Just beyond the cairns, my boyfriend froze mid-step. His eyesight is better than mine, possibly because he wears glasses, so he took the lead in shady spots because we figured if there were any snakes, he was more likely to spot them and not panic/jump back/ possibly slip. When it comes to perceived danger, my response is to flee I can’t help it. My boyfriend freezes. We didn’t actually expect to encounter any snakes, but there it was. This one was smallish and quickly slithered off the path. It had a rattle at the end and looked like a baby Timber Rattlesnake.

Considering we’d just seen a rattlesnake, I now question the wisdom of what we did next, but it wound up being the best part of the hike. We took off our shoes and socks and joined a few other hikers beneath one of the falls that was more of a trickle. Standing under that cold water felt incredible, like how summer should feel every day.

Shortly after, we followed the orange markings down a rocky trail filled with birds. Near the end I remembered the Wahnetah Hotel and assumed we’d already missed what ruins there were to see. Then we looked back and saw dry-stacked stone walls, stone steps and what looked like part of the stone foundation or a small structure.

Look down and there are traces of stones paths, giant exposed pipes. The closer to the end you get, the more tiers of partial stone walls you see and the easier it becomes to imagine how grand it must have been to arrive there.

Glen Onoko Falls is a new favorite trail. My pictures don’t come close to doing it justice. It’s challenging, but very doable if you’re fit and wearing appropriate footwear. I wouldn’t recommend bringing kids and definitely don’t wear flip-flops or sandals. This trail looks like it connects to a number of others so poke around before you go to get the most from your visit. We wanted to save some energy for canoeing the river so we stuck to the loop and finished in about 1.5-2 hours. I wish we took more time going up, but hopefully we get back there this fall. Pennsylvania state parks are free and there’s a bathroom just off the parking lot closest to the trailhead.

Camping

The first night it rained as the weather predicted. Unlike the prediction, it didn’t pass. It stormed the entire night. Have I ever told you how much I love lightning? Our lakefront campsite seemed like a great idea until, as my nieces like to say, the cold air started giving the hot air high-fives. Big bolty high-fives. At least our tent kept us dry. My sisters and their families woke up in puddles. They wanted to leave but the sun dried everything quickly and who can leave a fresh pot of coffee percolated over a campfire? Also, I hid their car keys.

The second night was clear and cool. The sky bright with stars. Perfect for deep sleeping. On that lovely peaceful night, I had one of the longest most terrifying moments of my life. It was the middle of the night (of course) and I awoke to a loud forceful push against our tent. It had to be a black bear. What else? Wide awake and heart pounding, This is it.One of my greatest fears is happening. Then I realized we had nothing to defend ourselves with. Ever ready to flee in the face of danger, I unzipped the tent and hysterically fumbled around for my fire-poking stick. After stubbed toes and a scraped knee, my boyfriend’s words – Thatwas me -finally sunk in. Turns out he was having a nightmare and punching the back wall of our tent in his sleep. Who does that? I was too relieved to do anything but grumble back into my sleeping bag. Much as I love camping, it does bring out my spazzy side.